


Danes in America

by AeonWing



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 01:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13135968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeonWing/pseuds/AeonWing
Summary: Jensen's new life in America with Bjergsen. Highschool AU





	Danes in America

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NekoKomu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoKomu/gifts).



The building is a respectable size, enough to command respect, even if it receives none from its students. A school. Someplace where people get their education. Something Nicolaj was never particularly great at. Yet it somehow feels strangely liberating to step into a new environment, even if it also feels equally frightening. He can faintly make out chattering in the background and foreground, only that it’s not the language he’s grown used to. Those days are long gone.

Farewell Denmark, enter America.

 

Nicolaj hasn’t spoken to anyone today, which doesn’t help considering today is also his first day in a wholly new environment. It would have made a great opportunity to meet new people. Sighing, and unsure of where to go, cautious steps lead him to the doors of the gym. Somewhere at the back of his mind he has to double-check his definitions. He’s so incredibly used to referring to what the Americans refer to as high-school as the gymnasium. It’s definitely a bit strange, but it quickly goes away when he steps inside, finding a cozy little spot on the bleachers.

There’s a basketball game going on, in what seems to be after-school practice match. Nicolaj naturally scans the players involved, but there’s only one person who catches his attention. Features that Nicolaj recognizes from a mile away. Pale skin, dirty-blonde hair, towering height. He remembers that this person was in one of his classes, but he must have zoned out.

Nicolaj can’t take his eyes off the boy, his movements are fluid, practiced, causing a mixture of envy and enamor. He effortlessly maneuverers through the pack of people, dribbling like it’s his second nature, and just as effortlessly manages the perfect layup.

When he lands, the same poise and confidence stays. When he smiles, it’s the center of the universe, as he is the center of the team. Nicolaj watches as he high fives his teammates, but it’s only when they praise him that he figures it out for sure.

“Nice one Søren!” Nicolaj hears. The pronunciation is stilted at best, but it’s very evidently a foreign name. At least, foreign to America.

Nicolaj watches as the rest of the boys pat Søren on the back, and the whistle is blown again. The game resumes. At the back of his mind, he remembers that he should be back soon, that his father is awaiting his return. But surely a little while longer won’t hurt.

Watching what appears to be an American past-time, a team led by a Danish boy.

 

The next day comes too fast, and Nicolaj finds himself sitting in an American history class. It’s the first period of the day, and so he’s still quite tired, lazily making his way over to his assigned seat. He is still the new student, so he’s aware of the stares that he’s probably getting.

He sits down, his empty binder and assigned textbook on the desk, and stares at the chalk board with bored eyes. Slowly, the rest of the class fills, and the teacher steps up to the front of the class. The speakers suddenly blare, and the familiar announcement- only this time in English- for the class to stand up for the national anthem is issued.

Nicolaj looks around, initially perturbed, wondering if it should apply to him- a fresh immigrant from Denmark, but quickly stands up anyways, unwilling to attract attention. The melody is nice, he admits, but it isn’t what he expected.

Finally, it’s over and he sits back down, and attendance is called. Alphabetical order ensues, and Søren’s name is called first, seamless pronunciation. Nicolaj looks around, waiting for the boy to respond. His eyes rest on the same boy from yesterday, a familiar smile making its way to his face when he replies with a soft “here”.

The Danish accent is faint, just strong enough that Nicolaj recognizes it. He’s still self-conscious about his own English, but answers anyways when his name is called, gently making it a point to correct his teacher’s pronunciation.

The minutes fly, and the bell rings before Nicolaj realizes it. He hastily packs his books, about to make his way to his next class, when Søren stops him. A wave of surprise washes over him, but Nicolaj can’t deny that he’s also a little excited by the prospect.

“Hey, Nicolaj, right?” Søren says, smiling.

“Uh… Yes… Søren” Nicolaj replies, feeling overly embarrassed by the apparent encounter. His eyes scan Søren’s, finding nothing but composure. He’s so incredibly nervous and Søren seems so composed.

The boy smiles, gently resting a hand on Nicolaj’s shoulder.

His next words, although technically wholly familiar, are strangely alien given the circumstances.

"Så er du også fra Danmark?" The Dane asks, his lips curling into a slight smile when Nicolaj’s expression becomes one of surprise.

He hadn’t been expecting that. Yet it somehow makes him feel a little more comfortable with speaking back- something he can’t say he’s felt ever since landing in America.

"Ja, jeg er fra Sønderjylland" He replies, nodding in assent when Søren raises his eyebrows. It feels good, it feels natural, speaking his mother tongue.

"Fedt. Så hvorfor er du her?" The taller Dane asks, casually signaling goodbye to their teacher, his other hand pressing against the classroom door, eyes gesturing Nicolaj to leave with him.

He hesitates a bit, naturally.

But when Søren’s expression doesn’t waver, he nods faintly, taking his steps out of the classroom into the all too busy hallways.

"Min far har fået arbejde her, så jeg blev nødt til at flytte" Nicolaj finally responds, his lips twisting into a slight frown. Of course, the prospect of moving to America due to his father’s work is unavoidable. It’s not like he wouldn’t be able to survive in an English setting, quite the opposite. Yet Denmark and America are nonetheless very different.

“Ah, I see,” Søren nods again. “Must be tough. See, I moved from Denmark a few years ago too,” he explains, eyes beaming with pride at the mention of their homeland. “It’s been… tough. Not many Danes here.”

“No kidding,” Nicolaj murmurs in response, but smiles nonetheless.

Somewhere, he’s glad he’s made a friend already.

“Well, I gotta get to next block,” Søren finally says, eyeing in the direction of the clock which is quickly ticking down. “The teacher will chew me out if I’m late.”

He leaves shortly after, but not before resting a hand on Nicolaj’s shoulder once more, that slight nod, that slight smile. It leaves him a little dazzled, feeling warm and fuzzy.

This would certainly be a good first year in America.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Translation:  
> "Så er du også fra Danmark?"  
> "Ja, jeg er fra Sønderjylland"  
> "Fedt. Så hvorfor er du her?"  
> "Min far har fået arbejde her, så jeg blev nødt til at flytte"
> 
> So you're from Denmark too?  
> Yeah, Southern Jutland  
> Nice. So what brings you here?  
> My father found work here so I had to move


End file.
